


Who Doesn't Love a Party

by hannigirl



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Camaraderie, Established Relationship, F/M, Reminiscing, i literally love the minutemen ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23308462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannigirl/pseuds/hannigirl
Summary: Set one year after the Minutemen destroy the Institute. The General hosts a celebration at the Castle to celebrate the victory and thank her soldiers. Some reminiscing and storytelling ensues.
Relationships: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor
Kudos: 25





	Who Doesn't Love a Party

It had been a year since the Institute was destroyed. It became somewhat of a holiday in settlements all across the Commonwealth. Diamond City shot off fireworks. Sanctuary held a parade. The ghouls at the Slog drank and partied. The good humored folks in Jamaica Plain instituted their first annual treasure hunt. Everyone was in good spirits; it seemed that even raiders, ferals, and supermutants took the day off.

The real party, however, was at the Castle. General Samantha Byrne had planned quite the celebration for her Minutemen. She and her friends had spent the last month collecting decorations, food, and most importantly—alcohol. They had set up a huge bonfire in the courtyard, and the kitchens were overflowing with food and drink. It truly was a night to celebrate. The Minutemen had worked so hard, both in the fight with the Institute and afterward, that Sam planned to give them a party they would never forget.

In order to make the festivities as inclusive as possible, Sam had also invited all of her settlers and her friends to join. She hadn’t expected many to say yes, but a lot had shown up after all. Sturges came down from Sanctuary with Cait, and Curie; they made the trip with Lucy Abernathy. Piper, Nick, Ellie, and Danny Sullivan came in from Diamond City. MacCready, Hancock, Kent Connolly, and Daisy came down from Goodneighbor. Kasumi Nakano and Daniel Finch arrived together—that made Sam smile ear to ear. Danse and Preston were already stationed at the Castle, and would be “honored to attend,” they had both said. Deacon told her that the Railroad was using the holiday distractions to their benefit—they had a lot of synths to move tonight, apparently. She didn’t expect him to make an appearance.

In addition to the Minutemen in attendance, the party numbered just about seventy people. Sam was thrilled with the turnout. Some of her friends arrived in advance, and she managed to corral them into helping her set up.

The cherry on top was the band. She had found out—over the course of the year—that several of the men and women under her command had musical capabilities. They were more than willing to play for the party. They were quite the group: two fiddlers, a guitarist, and an accordionist—somehow. It was a ragtag group, but the music they played was upbeat. It was perfect for some lively dancing, and she was sure the soldiers would take to it.

* * *

Things were going off without a hitch. Preston and Ronnie Shaw were gathered near the fire, swapping battle stories while some new recruits listened, awestruck and hanging on every word. _I wonder if that’s how Preston looked when he joined up,_ Sam laughed to herself, _now he’s a hero for the next generation_. Sturges dragged a grill out of the mess hall into the courtyard and was making ribeye steaks and nursing a beer. The band was playing a rather lively jig. There were at least seven couples out on the floor, twirling carelessly to the music. A young soldier—Sam thought her name might be Melody—was dancing with Danny Sullivan and the two were showing off some fancy footwork.

She herself was admiring the whole display from high on the Castle wall. She’d split the night into three guard shifts, so that everyone would have the chance to enjoy the festivities. On a night when the Castle was quite literally full of Minutemen, Sam decided that only two guards were needed per shift. They could sufficiently alert the rest of any danger. With only six open spots over the whole night, it was no problem filling them. She and Danse had volunteered to take the first shift, which was nearly over. McNally and Robertson—the two on second shift—had already headed for the armory to grab their gear.

“Everyone’s having a great time,” a deep voice came from behind her. She turned around to see Danse approaching. He slid his hand around her waist and she leaned her head on his shoulder.

He looked down at her when she didn’t respond; she was smiling, looking at all of her people enjoying themselves. After a moment, she spoke, “They all work so hard. I’m glad that they finally get a night to just let loose. I’m not the easiest to work for.”

Danse laughed, leaned down, and kissed the top of her head. “That’s not what they think. Everyone down there thinks incredibly highly of you. Plus, you don’t yell nearly as much as Shaw and I do.”

Sam giggled, “Well someone has to whip these recruits into shape, Captain Danse.”

They saw McNally and Robertson reach the top of the stairs and head their way.

“General,” McNally nodded, “anything we need to keep an eye out for tonight?”

“Not from what I saw. Danse, anything to the south?” she stepped out of his grip and looked up at him.

“Negative. It’s been entirely silent. Still, keep an eye out. Just because it has been quiet doesn’t mean it’ll stay that way,” he warned.

“Yes, sir. Enjoy the party,” Robertson said before the men left and took their posts.

“What do you say we go celebrate your victory?” Danse smiled at her.

“It’s _our_ victory,” she reminded him—with an gentle elbow to his ribs—as they went to stow their gear in the armory.

* * *

They went out into the courtyard, Danse walking to the bar area to grab them some drinks. Sam moved to the bonfire to listen in on some of Ronnie and Preston’s stories. The man was finishing up one about a tough battle against some super mutants.

“None of those are anything in comparison to what the General gets up to, though,” Preston said, looking up and acknowledging her.

“Can we hear one of your stories, General Byrne?” asked a young woman wearing a backwards ball cap.

“An adventure from the Commonwealth? Or an adventure from before the war?” Sam smiled.

“Both!” another minuteman chimed in.

“Hmmm, okay. I’ll start with pre-war,” she began.

Sam told them the story of the first time she had rafted the Colorado River. It was just her, a schoolteacher from Des Moines, a soldier from Atlanta, and their guide. Things were going rather smoothly, as smooth as they can when you’re rafting through a churning river. The group was getting along swimmingly, telling stories of their own, admiring the beauty, and cracking jokes at one another’s expense. At a particularly tough rapid, their entire raft flipped, sending them all into the turbulent water. She and the guide had managed to turn it back upright and get inside. The soldier made it over to the riverbank, she could see him gagging and coughing up water, but he was okay. They had no idea where the teacher—a man named Alan—had ended up. That’s when Sam spotted him: he was pinned up against a large rock and the water was beating against him.

Danse returned with their drinks, and handed one to Sam. “What is this?” she paused her story to ask.

“They’re calling it ‘The General,’ it’s vodka, mutfruit juice, and lemonade,” he replied, taking a seat next to her and sipping his beer.

“Yeah, yeah, who cares?!” burst out one minuteman.

“Yeah, what happened to the schoolteacher?” another asked.

Sam snorted and continued.

The two of them guided the raft to the bank, and she took off running upstream. Once she got a few meters ahead of him, she jumped into the water with no regard for herself, letting the current take her to him. It took all of Sam’s strength—which was significantly less at the time, she reminded the minutemen—to pull him from the water and drag him to shore. It took five agonizing minutes of mouth to mouth by the guide, but Alan finally regained consciousness.

“Well, General? What’d you do then?” an infantryman by the name of Vincent asked.

She shrugged, “we stopped for lunch and tried to dry out our clothes. I saw a cool bird,” she remembered fondly, to the humor of her soldiers, “then we packed up all of our gear and kept on down the river.”

“Wouldn’t the gear have fallen out of the boat?” Ronnie Shaw chimed in.

“No. It was expected that this kind of thing might happen, so we tied everything down,” Sam replied, taking a sip of her drink.

“I don’t know where anyone gets the idea that pre-war people were soft,” the ball cap woman spoke up. Everyone looked at her, to see where this was headed. “You guys were absolutely nuts!” The whole group burst out in laughter.

“Most people were fairly tame, I’d have to say. Or at least we were supposed to be. I was the only woman on that rafting trip, and it’d taken me four tries to find a guide who would even bring me along. Most of them said I’d be ‘a liability to the safety of men,’” she rolled her eyes.

“Well, fuck ‘em!” a woman shouted, earning a few more cheers from the group—which had gotten significantly bigger since Sam had sat down.

“Now you’ve got to tell a Commonwealth story, General!” Vincent called out.

“I don’t know, I’ve got so many. What do you want to hear?” she questioned, taking another drink.

Danse was the one to chime in this time, “Tell them how you jumped off the Prydwen.”

“You jumped off the Prydwen?! How are you not dead?!” a man exclaimed.

“Are you insane? What happened?!” another asked.

“Oh, come on, Danse. That’s not a good story! I got in so much trouble for doing that!” Sam cut in.

“Well,” Preston said, taking a sip of his beer, “now you’ve got to tell us.”

Sam scowled. “If you don’t tell them, I will,” Danse goaded.

“Fine, then. You tell them. I’m still bitter,” she crossed her arms. He kissed her on the head.

“It was when we were both still a part of the Brotherhood of Steel,” he began with a deep breath. Sam was so proud of him. Over the last year, he’d become almost completely comfortable talking about his time with the Brotherhood. She supposed it helped that he was in the company of soldiers, which made it easier and more familiar to discuss.

“We had been sitting in the mess hall, and Sam was in a heated discussion with the Brotherhood’s lead doctor, Knight-Captain Cade. I don’t recall how the subject was breached, but they were talking about the physical damage a person would incur from jumping off the ship,” he explained.

“The ship was docked partially above the bay,” Sam interjected. “Some of the Knights were having a contest to see who could jump from the highest point in power armor. I told Cade that if the water was deep enough, someone could theoretically survive the fall without power armor. He told me I was full of shit.”

“What he actually said,” Danse continued, “was ‘the odds are astronomical. Even if you survived, you’d break every bone in your body.’”

“Which isn’t true! Two percent of all suicide attempts from the Golden Gate Bridge do not result in loss of life. That is a height of 245 feet. The Prydwen was only docked at a height of 200 feet. The odds aren’t _astronomical,_ they just aren’t good!” she insisted.

“General, you aren’t making a good case for yourself,” Preston spoke up, “All I really heard there was that 98% of people die when they try this kind of thing.”

“It’s all about the body position and muscle rigidity!” Sam burst out, standing up. “So anyway, Cade thinks I’m full of shit, and I tried to reason with him the old fashioned way. Based on health department regulations and my own math, I deemed that with a depth of 30 feet or more, the drop was survivable. He still wouldn’t listen.”

“So you jumped off to prove him wrong, eh?” Ronnie asked, rolling her eyes.

“Not immediately, no. I tested the depth of the water first. At the point from which I jumped, the water was 39 feet deep,” she explained.

“And then she flung herself off the ship,” Danse asserted.

“I did not _fling myself_ off the ship. Cade wouldn’t take me seriously, and neither would Danse. So I went out and proved them wrong. I jumped from the North end of the Prydwen into Boston Harbor and I hit the water without breaking _a single_ bone. I swam to shore and was perfectly fine, if not a little winded.”

“Captain,” a woman spoke, “you just let the General _jump off the ship_?”

“We didn’t let her,” he clamored, “she ran out and jumped before any of us could grab her and stop her.”

“Well it’s not like you didn’t let me know how pissed you were after the fact,” she said, looking at him. Then she turned back to her men and women. “They put me in handcuffs and took me back up to the ship. After Danse finished chewing me out, they put me on medical psychiatric evaluation for two weeks. I wasn’t even allowed to have my own knife at meals. They thought I was gonna slit my throat with it.”

“We thought you were trying to kill yourself!” Danse grumbled, running his hand over his face.

“I wasn’t! Anyway, I was right and Cade was wrong. Just like I said,” Sam stated, leaning back and crossing her arms.

There was a brief silence in the group. “Damn, she really is insane,” someone muttered, making everyone laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> I just love the Minutemen and I think Preston Garvey deserves the world. For the type of music I imagine the Minutemen band playing, listen to the song Arkansas Traveler.


End file.
